


nothing to be scared of

by lukegodbaby



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Drug Use, Other, Reader-Insert, ambiguously gendered reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 21:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17885771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukegodbaby/pseuds/lukegodbaby
Summary: after standing up to the bowers gang, you’re surprised that they want to hang out with you.





	nothing to be scared of

Four schools in as many years had taught you a lot. You’d walked away from it only a little worse for wear, only a little bloody, and with a set of personal rules you considered failsafe.

 

First, always carry a lighter. You never know when you need to start a fire.

 

Second, keep out of other people’s business unless they make it yours.

 

Third, and most importantly, if you’re the scariest thing around, there’s nothing for you to be scared of.

 

You hadn’t made any new friends at this school, and you were okay with that.

 

After school on a particularly warm spring day, you sat on the back stairs of the school, watching kids walk by, fidgeting with your lighter, flicking it on and off. Kids walked past you like they were afraid punk was catching, like if they came too close, they’d walk away hating adults and wanting to graffiti everything they touched.

 

Whatever.

 

You watched as a group of fellow seniors, lead by that corn-fed blonde Henry, pushed around a group of younger kids. For some reason, the kids were trying to stand up for themselves instead of just running away, and you had to hand it to them. Not easy, but sometimes, you had to do it.

 

Then the tall one named Patrick pulled on the girl’s short hair and then gestured at you. You sighed, rolled your eyes, and stood up. If you had to get into it, you had to get into it.

 

_Rule number two: keep out of other people’s business unless they make it yours._

 

You may have been grasping at straws, itching for a fight or for something to just fucking happen in your life, but either way, this felt like your business.

 

“What’d you fucking say about me?” you said, pushing yourself into the group, pulling the girl behind you.

 

You weren’t that much taller than her, but your boots gave you an inch or so, and your mohawk gave you a larger presence than you had without it spiked up.

 

“I told the bitch that if she keeps chopping off her hair like that, she’s gonna look like a freak. Like you,” said Patrick.

 

“Uh huh. Okay, you got two options. Leave the kids alone, or let someone a foot shorter than you kick your ass.”

 

“Go ahead and try it,” he said, not getting any farther before you got him with a right hook.

 

He stumbled away from you, almost landing on his ass.

 

“Fucker,” he spat at you while his friends roared with laughter.

 

“I told you. You didn’t listen, and that’s your fault,” you said. Then you turned to the younger kids. “Get out of here.”

 

None of them said anything before they walked away.

 

“Stay the fuck away from those kids,” you said to the bullies, then turned to walk away.

 

You headed home, lighter in one hand, humming as you went.

 

—

 

Two months later, graduation behind you and summer in full swing, you were dying of boredom. You couldn’t get a job because of your looks — damn small towns — so you had nothing to do with your time.

 

You spent most of your time at the arcade or just walking around. There wasn’t much else to do in a town like this, and you didn’t have a car to take you anywhere else. Not that you’d be able to afford the gas or anything.

 

As you were walking past town square, you heard a voice call out to you.

 

“Hey! Hey, freak!”

 

You turned and found that it was Henry Bowers and his goons driving in that Trans Am they were all so proud of. You took out your lighter, flicking it on and off, something that had become a nervous tic for you in the past months.

 

“Fuck off,” you yelled back.

 

They pulled into a parking spot near you, Patrick and Vic hanging out the back windows.

 

“Whatcha doin’?” asked Henry.

 

“Well, I was enjoying a leisurely stroll,” you drawled. “Now these useless fuckers are annoying me.”

 

The one called Belch laughed.

 

“Why?” you asked.

 

“Patrick here has a crush on you ever since you kicked his ass,” said Vic, getting him a kick from Patrick, “and he wants to know if you wanna hang out with us.”

 

“Why,” you started, “the _fuck_ would I want to hang out with you?”

 

“So you can kick Patrick’s ass again?” offered Belch.

 

“I can do that without having to spend time with you,” you said, beginning to walk away.

 

“We have pot,” said Henry after you.

 

You stopped.

 

“Damn,” you grumbled. Then, you turned back to them. “One time,” you said. “I will kick anyone’s teeth in if I have to.”

 

“Please,” said Vic.

 

Then you hoisted yourself into the back seat of the car, and you all started moving again.

 

The guys were all surprisingly quiet together. Maybe it was because of you — you suspected that they didn’t know how to act with an audience.

 

You arrived at a house quickly, the boys leading you to a barn. You glimpsed the mailbox on the way up the drive, so you knew it was Henry’s place.

 

You all got situated in the hay loft, and Vic pulled a joint out of his pocket. Patrick went over to Vic, patting himself down as he did.

 

“Shit,” he said. “I can’t find my lighter.”

 

Everyone groaned.

 

_Rule number one: always carry a lighter. You never know when you need to start a fire._

 

You wordlessly held out your own.

 

Henry pointed at you. “I like this one.”

 

“Can we replace Patrick with you?” Belch asked you.

 

You barked out a laugh. “Fuck no.”

 

He shrugged.

 

Henry lit up the joint, passing it to you. You took a puff and passed it on. You wanted to do more, but you didn’t trust these guys as far as you could throw them.

 

Patrick settled down next to Vic, throwing one arm over his shoulder. Vic curled into him.

 

“You two like, a thing or something?” you asked as Patrick took a drag and then coughed through the exhale.

 

“Mm. Or something,” said Vic. “Belch, c’mere?”

 

Belch went over to him, pulling his legs into his lap. As the joint kept getting passed around, more and more, the boys gravitated towards each other, ending up in one big pile.

 

You had a feeling that the something Vic had talked about was all of them. All of them, together.

 

It made you ache a little bit to think about.

 

You’d spent a long time alone.

 

“Take some more,” said Henry. “I thought you wanted some.”

 

“I do, I just don’t trust you guys yet,” you said, immediately regretting the truth behind the _yet_.

 

“Why not?” asked Vic, one hand in Patrick’s hair. “We trust you.”

 

“Clearly. I just… why? Why do you trust me?”

 

“Anyone who’s not afraid to clock Patrick deserves it,” said Belch. Henry hummed in agreement.

 

_Rule number three: if you’re the scariest thing around, there’s nothing for you to be scared of._

 

“Yeah, about that,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was just itching for a fight that day.”

 

“It’s okay,” said Vic.

 

“Speak for yourself,” said Patrick. “Kid busted my lip.”

 

You grinned. You knew it had been a solid hit.

 

“So proud of yourself,” said Henry, knocking his elbow into your side.

 

“Yeah, well,” you said.

 

“Can I do something?” Belch asked abruptly.

 

“Huh?” you replied.

 

“Can I touch your hair?”

 

“Uh. Sure,” you said.

 

He reached out, his fingers tentatively finding your hair. Today it was ratted into a softer and more full version of your usual spiky mohawk. The dye was a lot more faded than you ever let it get in the school year, too. Then his fingers went to the little patch hanging in front of your ear. It tickled, and you laughed.

 

“It’s just hair,” you said.

 

“Cool as shit hair,” he replied.

 

You shrugged.

 

“To me, it’s just hair.”

 

“You’re really cool,” he said.

 

You smiled.

 

“You’re cooler than I thought you’d be,” you replied. “All of you.”

 

Vic waved you over to him. You leaned in, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. You blushed.

 

“Gee whiz,” you joked, not knowing what else to say.

 

“Don’t be weird,” said Patrick.

 

“Says the guy who got a boner because I punched him forever ago,” you replied.

 

He shrugged.

 

Henry threw an arm around your shoulders, and you relaxed into his side.

 

You could really get used to these guys.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr at god--baby.tumblr.com


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